The first light of dawn wasn’t as harsh as usual. It filtered through the cracks in the walls as a soft, pale glow.

Alias woke up first. He didn’t move because his body was still wrapped in a heavy, solid muscle of heat. Theo’s arm was locked firmly around his waist, his large hand resting flat and heavy over Alias’s stomach.

Theo hadn’t moved an inch all night, as if having Alias in his arms was just right and there was nothing else that mattered.

Alias stayed still, listening to the deep, steady sound of Theo’s breathing against the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he couldn’t break free if he wanted to, but he felt a strange reluctance to get up.

He liked the weight of Theo’s arm. He liked the warmth of his breath on his neck. He liked everything about this man, and he just... didn’t know why.

As the room got brighter, he finally shifted... slightly, not in an attempt to get up but to see Theo’s face, but that caused Theo to grunt in his sleep.

His grip tightened for a second before his eyes flickered open. He looked dazed for a moment, staring at the silver hair right in front of his face. He thought it was a dream. He thought it was one of those nights where he woke up and saw the visage of a man he missed.

He leaned his face closer, planning to kiss Alias’s neck when Alias called out,

"T-Theo? Are you awake?"

This helped to clear Theo’s focus, and he recalled everything that happened the previous day. Alias was here, in his arms, for real. This was not a dream.

But even after relaxing that, he didn’t pull away immediately; he just lay there, his breath hitching as he soaked in the feeling of Alias in his arms.

"Morning," Theo rasped. His voice was thick and gravelly from sleep.

He slowly retracted his arm, though his fingers lingered on Alias’s side for a second before he sat up. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to shake off the sleep.

Alias sat up too, his silver hair a mess over his shoulders. "Morning," he said, his voice soft and his face slightly flushed.

Theo reached out to him and tucked his hair behind his ear.

"It wasn’t a dream," he said under his breath, and Alias understood what he meant.

He did not ask any questions and instead looked away; the harsh morning he usually remembered was gone.

"The air really is different," he muttered.

"Yeah," Theo responded. "It’s been like that for a while now. It helps with moving in the morning now." He smiled softly, and Alias nodded, feeling his heart race.

Why is my heart racing? He wondered, pressing his hand on his chest.

He wondered if it was because he was glad that his plan was working out. With the oases spread across different parts of the deserts, the desert breeze did not just carry dust and heat, but it also carried the freshness that came with lakes.

Theo stood up and stretched, his joints popping. He looked down at Alias, his expression a mix of that old protectiveness and something much heavier.

"Come on. Maya will be up soon." He reached down to help Alias up, and Alias took his hand.

With one swift motion, Theo pulled him up and into his arms, his hand wrapped around Alias’s waist once again.

"You’re lighter than I remember, moon boy." Theo teased, and Alias’s face flushed, but he looked away.

"Ah, I probably don’t weigh as much as what you lift every day." He said, and Theo laughed.

"Right. It’s like you weigh nothing but the fabrics you wore yesterday. You are..." he leaned closer, and Alias didn’t know what to do. If he should move his head backward or forward. He was curious about what Theo was about to do, and his eyes instinctively went to his lips.

What was he doing?

Before he could process anything, Theo kissed the top of his head and then let go, walking off like he hadn’t done anything.

Alias stood there for a moment after Theo walked away, his hand drifting up to the spot on his head where those warm lips had just pressed.

It wasn’t a divine seal or a mark of power, yet it felt more permanent than any constellation he had ever pinned to the dark. His heart continued its frantic, irregular drumming—a ’malfunction’ he was beginning to realize was actually a rhythm.

By the time Alias made it to the small kitchen area, Maya was already awake, humming as she stirred a pot of porridge. She looked at Alias, then at her brother, who was uncharacteristically focused on slicing a loaf of bread.

"You’re both unusually quiet this morning," Maya teased, her hazel eyes dancing with mischief.

Theo cleared his throat, his ears turning a telltale shade of red. "Just hungry, Maya. Don’t start cooking up theories with the meal."

Maya rolled her eyes away.

"Okay, if you say so." But she could definitely smell a rat.

They sat around the small wooden table, the steam from the porridge rising in the morning air.

Alias watched the steam, thinking of the oases he had painted. He knew the timing was right. The air was already shifting, and the people of the slums were beginning to notice the grace of a cooler breeze.

Before anyone else finds it, before someone makes a claim of the beauty he had painted just for Theo, they had to act fast.

"Theo," Alias said, his voice cutting through the quiet moment. He waited until Theo looked up, meeting those steady blue eyes. "Do you remember what we talked about? Ten years ago, before I had to leave?"

Theo’s hand went still for a second. Then, he set his spoon down, his expression shifting from casual to guarded, yet deeply attentive.

"I remember every word of it, Alias. You asked if I’d leave this dirt behind if there was somewhere better. I told you I’d go in a heartbeat."

"Then, what will you do now? Is your answer still the same?" Alias asked, his voice dropping to a soft, certain tone.

He did not know if Theo had created a life here and would rather live like this now that he was older. He did not know if his decision would be the same. He did not know if—

"In a heartbeat," Theo’s voice cut through his thoughts. "I would leave this place."